


Freedom Like Honey (Sickly Sweet and oh so Fake)

by orphan_account



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Timeline is kinda funky in this ngl, if you know me irl no you do not <3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:42:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28025676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: what freedom means is up for debate, and Dream wants to know how his... people view it.—Dream asks some people what freedom means. He’s both surprised and viscously smug.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	Freedom Like Honey (Sickly Sweet and oh so Fake)

“Tell me, what does freedom feel like?” The blood gods hands still in his hair, surprised at the question. It’s a simple question, Techno supposes. He’s freed himself from hundreds of places hundreds of times. It should be easy to answer. He thinks of the triumph he felt, the vicious grin and barking laugh told only to the sky and corpses of his captors. That would be the obvious answer. He thinks the masked man who asked the question expects it. He shifts, cautious to Techno always hated to be expected. So he thinks of something else. It might even be the truth.  
“Bitter.” He was right, the masked man is surprised. There’s little satisfaction when shock costs being known. There’s even less when he sees the man tilt his head in amusement.

“That’s an answer I haven’t yet heard. Why bitter?” Techno doesn’t want to answer him. It could be used against him, spread to his enemies and spread to the allies that would discard him if they were to find he wasn’t as good a weapon as they thought. Maybe that was a good enough reason to tell the truth. Self hatred always ran rampant through him anyways.

“Winning is easy. Always has been. I can get out of situations when I want. Being free, though, truly and absolutely free? What’s there to do? Nothing I’m good at, nothing I’ll be crowned for. I have family, I suppose. But am I free then? Am I free when I can feel their eyes when I move too quickly? No point going back. Freedom is bitter. I am free, but I have no home. It’s all rather difficult, you of all people know. Nothing is black or white, sometimes it’s soaked in blood.” Yes, techno thinks, freedom is bitter and hard. He has never worked well without a goal in mind.

—

“Freedom?” The baker thinks about it. Freedom has never been a foreign concept to her, but she cherishes it like a dying man does water. “Freedom is warmth. I am safe, and I have what I love. I can close my shop if I wish to spend time by the water, I can care for those I love, and my boundaries are respected. Freedom is knowing I have a place to come back to and friends I can trust.” Niki knows things to be true, and having the freedom she needs is one of them. Freedom had many different feelings, but to her, it’s love. Love for her friends, her work, herself.

The masked man expected this answer.

He appreciates it nonetheless.

“I would have figured you to say that. Though I must ask, do you consider someone ruling over you freedom?”

“Dream, I do not care for power as you do. If someone is leading, I’ll place my faith in them to do what’s best. Please, do not take me for a fool, I understand control corrupts. And still under corruption, I am free to be myself. I am free to love with the same ferocity and passion as you fight with.” The masked man ignores the subtle jab at him.

“Niki, never have I taken you for a fool—”

“I’ve never much been for liars, you know. Would you like some bread? I’ve made some fresh.”

“I— I suppose I would, thank you.” The masked man is not often surprised, he’s always been good at calculating others responses, but sometimes he forgets his calculations start and end with fights.

—

“Hope.” The president is fiercely sure of it. It’s what he’s been working for, what he’s been fighting for, what he needs like oxygen. Freedom is worth more than anything to him, and he knows he’d do whatever it’d take to get it. If not for him, then for his family. Always for his family, he thinks.

“Predictable.” Wilbur snorts at that; he knows he’s predictable. Easy enough for people to let things slip by when they never suspect you to leave your lines. Ridiculous, really.

“That’s what makes it amazing, right? Freedom is hope and knowing that you can live for yourself, that no one is tugging at your strings. I know that I may not be safe, but I work for myself and am free to be alive the way I wish. It’s what everyone craves, I think; to be free without a judgment always expected.” Wilbur thinks of the way his son craved freedom from the grief of his mother, of change, he thinks of the way Eret wished freedom from the guilt of becoming a traitor, and he thinks of the way both Tubbo and Tommy ached for the freedom of peace, of the ending of war. He thinks of the way they all wanted what was so close yet so out of reach, and he knows he’s right. It’s to be hoped for, reached if you were ever so ambitious. It’s a goal, a faith.

“You know, Wilbur, you’ve always had such grand ideas, sometimes too grand to be even plausible—” Wilbur scoffs. “But this seems fitting for you. At least you recognize that you work well alone; something you should keep in mind when you attempt to fight in sync.”

“Dream, and I mean this so truly and dearly, get fucked.”

—

“Dream, you know as well as I do that freedom is nothing more than a bargaining chip.” The president laughs. It’s harsh and devoid of any true humor, but a laugh none the less. “Freedom is just as true as the sun rising in the west, and it’s relied on by no one but fools and dreamers.” Dream nods appreciatively.

“And you? What do you describe what you have?”

“I’m hardly an idiot; I recognize when there’s a bigger fish. There always is. I have... room to move, but I’m aware my reign may be short lived when it comes to your whims. Maybe even Soots whims, depending on how far gone he might be.” Schlatt leans back on his desk, cocking an eyebrow at the masked figure standing in his office’s doorway. Dream hardly ever came around, and if he did it certainly wasn’t to ask a question like this. “What do you gain from asking this?”

“Must I always gain something?” Another short bark of laughter from Schlatt. 

“I’m fully aware you think you should.”

“Touché.” Dreams smile is covered, but the amusement in his voice isn’t. “I suppose I was curious. You never do share your thoughts, and you always seem to operate like you’re in control.”

“So it was a reminder, then? That I’m as much under your thumb as anyone else?”

“Of sorts. And I hardly think you’re under my control.” Schlatt rolls his eyes; he knows he is. “Well, not at the moment. I’m quite enjoying the show you’ve created.”

“Ah, always for the entertainment. I should’ve expected it.” It’s Dreams turn to laugh, although his is significantly more playful.

“You should’ve, and you didn’t. I’d watch out for that if I were you.”

Schlatt thinks he needs a drink.

—

“I don’t know,” The fox says, shrugging. “I was born into war, really. I wouldn’t know what it feels like.”

“Not even a guess? Fundy, I’m disappointed in you.” Fundy snorts. Dream was hardly the first person he’d disappointed, and he wouldn’t be the last. Besides, what’s the point of being worried by someone you didn’t care about?

The traitorous voice in his head told him _everything_ , everything was the point. If people who didn’t care for you at all were disappointed in you, you were at rock bottom and digging your grave. But, Fundy had experience shoving that voice down, even if it wasn’t much used. Self pity was hardly his thing, but sometimes it felt like there wasn’t much of another option.

“Not even a guess, Dream. Nor would I want to guess, considering you’d turn it on me first chance you got.” Fundy rolled his eyes at Dreams laugh.

“Me? Never! I’m appalled you’d ever think that of me!” Dream only laughed harder at Fundy’s glare, and Fundy considered if murder was worth it. It would be satisfying at the least, so he’d have to take as much comfort from that as he could.

“Mmm. Am I free to leave, then? I have meeting with the president soon, and I really don’t want to miss it.” Dream waves his hand, dismissing what he said. Hardly anything new, then.

“I’m sure he’ll understand, especially with that new flag you’ve made. He seems impressed. Quite a feat, really.” Fundy tries to stop the small swell of disgusting pride he feels in his chest, but he knows by Dream’s tone he’s failed. 

He sighs.

“Fine. I guess freedom is... I don’t know, being able to do what you want? Why are you asking me, anyways? Don’t you have a dictionary or something?” Dream laughs at that, and Fundy tries to push down the pride at that, too.

**Author's Note:**

> It’s 4am I’m so tired
> 
> Dream team cult discord! https://discord.gg/ghhW2RJC


End file.
